Cold
by Bushwah
Summary: The only times Killua has known anything but pain are when he has been in the arms of his brother. Illumi intends to keep it that way.
1. nine

*nine*

* * *

Living on top of a mountain is not nearly as fun as it sounds.

Being in the snow hurts, and I only train out here on the coldest days. Today, the sky is crystal clear, but that just makes it colder.

I close my eyes so my eyeballs don't frost over, but my skin still feels like it's about to fall off, and I can't tell if I still have feet. I resist the urge to touch my boots with mittened hands, or to just fall over and not get up. Even though I'm only nine, this is training and I should conduct it professionally.

I do cross my arms over each other and compact my stance so that I present the least surface to the bitter wind.

That's the professional way to handle being about to freeze to death.

I trust Illumi to pick me up if I really can't do this. I guess he wasn't the one who told me to come out here, but he and Silva work together so much, planning my training, that he's probably the one at the window above, checking to see if I can still stand.

I smile into the wind, not feeling the cold for a few blissful seconds. _I know you're watching me, aniki._

Then the wind changes direction, blowing on my left side. It's not actually colder, but the unexpected shift makes me shiver. I lower my center. I won't disappoint him again.

The cold is making my thoughts fuzzy. I turn my mind away from hot chocolate and concentrate on staying on my feet. Even without looking, I can tell that they're slipping out from under me, leaving me unstable.

I turn and open the door. It's better to go in now than to stay out here and collapse.

The front hall would probably feel cold at any other time, but now, it's much warmer than outside, and I half-fall to the ground, not caring who sees me. I pull off the restrictive mittens with my teeth. Numb fingers try to unlace my boots.

I feel warm hands around my own. My eyes are frozen shut, but I can tell without looking that Illumi is the one behind me. He takes his hands off mine and removes the boots. My feet can't feel anything, even the warmth of the room, but I'm not afraid.

Illumi is stronger than anything. How could I be afraid when he is here?

"You did well, Killu," I hear him say.

I turn, still blinded, and lean against him. _I did well_.

Illumi carries me to our room. He takes off the rest of my clothing and tucks me into bed. Then he lies down next to me. I pull off the blanket, put it under the bed, and curl up to him.

He reaches over and runs his fingers through my hair. Drifting off to sleep, I'm finally warm all the way through.


	2. ten

*ten*

* * *

"You know you aren't allowed to wear clothes at night."

"It wasn't night when I went to bed."

I'm sure that Illumi knows that I went to bed early to avoid this.

"It is now. Take that off."

I pull the black yukatta together, covering my chest. "No."

"I could take it off of you, but I would rather you did it yourself."

"I don't want to."

He runs his hand across the place where my arms hold each other tightly. I can feel my hands relaxing, almost letting go. When the hand moves away, I hold it tighter still, but the grip feels false even to me. Broken.

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you, Killu?"

I hate him, but I hate myself more. "N-no, aniki!" I'm so weak.

When I do anything he doesn't want me to, I get so tired, I just want to lie down and sleep next to him. He doesn't let me most times, though.

Sometimes, I wake up in his bed in the morning.

"Take it off."

Maybe it's not too late. Maybe if I pretend I'm asleep, I can come over to him tonight.

I don't look at him as I comply.

* * *

"If you admit to pain... if you tell me to stop... it means you submit." His gentle touches are somehow worse than the claws would be. "Does this hurt?"

"No." It doesn't hurt.

"I can't hurt you anymore, can I?"

"You can't hurt me." It doesn't. Not really.

"What does it feel like?"

"I hate it."

It hurts.

* * *

I can't stand it here.

Alluka has to stay in the basement now—and I know Illumi must have been the one to lock her up, because Silva and the other elders wouldn't have even thought of doing that. Alluka's a person, not a thing.

She was the one who kept me sane, and it's only a matter of time before something breaks.

I've got to get away. Before Illumi knows. Before he looks at me and can tell from the way I stand, the way I try to talk normally but get mixed up from suppressing it all, before I tell him to his face that I hate him.

* * *

I'm going to run on my next mission. Alluka doesn't know; I can't risk telling her. She can't keep secrets the way I can. She's never had to learn.

I want to go so bad, I'm not even scared.

* * *

It's time.

I leave, the normal way, through the main door, and get picked up by my family's plane. The target must be somewhere far away.

I haven't been this anxious to get to a mission for a long time. Always before, it was in anticipation to get to kill someone. I don't look forward to that part of it anymore. Killing people is just something I do. Most of the time, it's really boring.

This time, though, I'm going out, and I'm never coming back.

* * *

I go into the target's room.

I don't know why someone wanted this guy dead. He looks pretty normal to me.

Then again, most of them are just businessmen, stuff like that.

He's completely oblivious to my presence. My claws lengthen.

It's time.

Actually, he should be dead by now.

I never take this long.

Still, I hesitate. I have a feeling I've forgotten something, something important.

Oh yeah, I was going to run away.

* * *

I leave the building, undetected as I always am. It feels almost wrong to kill him when I'm so close to freedom, but I don't want to raise suspicion.

I run, faster than the cars, but no one sees me, no one remarks as I pass. I know how to hide. Like everything else I know, it relates directly to the art of assassination.

I notice more people passing, and slow down, trying to lose myself in the crowd. I'm pretty distinctive just with the way I walk, so I try, hard as it is for my professional sensibilities, to imitate them and walk the same way they do. I refuse to stick to the shadows now. To pretend I don't exist.

It's getting dark, and I've got money, but it's not safe to book a room. Sleeping in someone's house through a private deal isn't a stable strategy either. Word has a way of getting out when a person takes in a runaway. The scars would certainly make people think I was abused. Not far enough from the truth.

So, I curl up just below a set of steps in front of the town library. It's not that strange for a homeless kid to be all scratched up. There's two other boys sleeping by the janitor's door; they wouldn't be here if it wasn't at least fairly safe, and even if there's danger, it can't be as bad as at home.

* * *

I can't sleep.

It isn't that I'm not tired; no matter how I lie down, I can't sleep. Thoughts of home distract me, and something inside me feels hollow. I almost regret having run away.

My bag is tucked inside the curve of my body. I'm confident in my ability to keep myself safe, but if I drift away from it during the night, it might not be there in the morning.

Wait. I still have the bag?

Holding it open with my right hand, reaching in frantically, I pull out the communicator.

It can be tracked. I know it can. Mother told me that, when she said to always keep it on me. I review the rest of the items with my left hand, know the contents by heart. Wallet, knife, needle and thread in case I need to stitch myself up...

Nothing else. Unless there's something in my clothing, or the bag itself.

I get up, and start running, free in the night.

On the other side of town, I lie down again. I'm not in the street, and other than that, I don't care where I am.

* * *

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is that I'm not in my bed. The sun is high, and way too bright.

Then, as my eyes adjust, I see that I'm at a cross-street in a residential area, and my bag is in my right hand.

Why didn't I return from the mission last night?

Then I see the communicator in my other hand, blinking red with a message. Illumi had called, at six in the morning, to ask where I was and whether the mission had been successfully completed. I remember that I tried to run away.

I flip over and bounce up to standing, but pain flashes again, _paralysis_, and I fall.

Ripping up my shirt, I can see the pin buried in my side. I try again to look up, to see the face I know is above me now, but I can't. I curl up possessively around the pain, give in to it, hope Illumi will stop when I surrender.

Sometimes he does, and sometimes it only makes things worse.

The pain recedes along with reality.

* * *

I wake again, and I'm home.

That's the end of my second success at getting away from this family. I got off the grounds. And I was found by Illumi, tracked by the communicator I forgot to leave behind.

_Now he's going to punish me, so I never try to run away again._

The pin is in my forehead this time. It doesn't feel like anything, really.

"It hurts, doesn't it," Illumi says.

Poisonous agony burns through me. _If you admit to pain..._

Everything fades, leaving only numbness, and the black eyes so like my own that promise he will never let me go.

"It hurts... more than anything."


	3. eleven

*eleven*

* * *

I stare at the wall for a minute, tracing patterns on it. That blob looks like Milluki, and that one almost like one of his computer things. I see little images of Kikyou's visor and my skateboard.

I don't know how long I looked, or how I got halfway up the wall, but I fall off when I hear Alluka's footsteps.

Of course, I land on my feet. Alluka runs over and asks me if I'm all right, and I tell her I'm fine. She doesn't know how to fall, but she wouldn't be climbing a wall in the first place, so it doesn't really matter.

"Let's play deathtouch," she says, with a smile. I'm about to agree when Silva comes down the hall.

"It's time for shock training, Killu," he says.

"Isn't deathtouch training too?" I know it isn't, not when it's with Alluka, but maybe...

Then I see Illumi coming toward us from the other side of the hall. I lower my shoulders, trying to hide my disappointment. "Sorry, Alluka. Maybe tomorrow." If he doesn't decide to lock her up all day tomorrow.

Illumi takes my hand and leads me away down the hall. I wonder what my punishment will be for wanting to play deathtouch instead of the shock training. Maybe he'll decide the electricity is enough.

Our silence isn't strained, not really. He takes me to the main stairs, like always. There are other ways to get to the room with the electrocution equipment, but this one is the shortest.

We walk down the hall, to the first right, the second, past the third. That's where we would turn if we were taking the normal route.

Illumi keeps walking, and I follow him.

* * *

I'm deeper into the maze under the house than I can ever remember being. We pass the last torch on the wall. I reach for Illumi's hand, and he lets me take it. He knows his way, even where neither of us can see. I find myself respecting his abilities more than ever.

Eventually, when I have no idea how far we've gone in the lightless passages, he finally stops, and I hear a door open.

I can't see anything, but by the way the stale smell diffuses into the air, I can tell that the room is small. He directs me against a wall and binds my arms with ropes. I won't break Illumi's ropes, though I know I could.

I wait for him to begin, but all I feel is a last cool breeze on my cheek, all I hear is the sound of the door closing.

I tell myself that I am not afraid of the dark.

* * *

There is no noise, no light, nothing but the absolute blackness and the air that feels heavy on my body. I consider trying to worm out of my bonds, as Illumi tied them just loosely enough that it would be easy, but there's no point in doing so when I don't know my way back. I don't want to wander through Kukuruu Mountain until I starve to death, so I stay still, resisting the urge to try to return to the world of the light.

It's surprisingly comfortable to be tied against the wall. I expected something sharper, more painful, less boring. Nothing is happening; nothing will happen until Illumi returns.

I can't track time blind, and I have no reference at all in this underground room, but by the tightening of the hunger in my chest, it must be nearing dinnertime. I wonder if I'll be fed tonight.

* * *

I open my eyes, close them tightly and open them again, knowing I can't see but unable to stop my body from trying. Spectral blue doors seem to unfold in front of me, followed by green and purple fireworks. I hear music, and see dead people all around me, laid out in perfect rows like soldiers. Most of them look like they have been murdered by amateurs. I close my eyes reflexively, but it changes nothing; the ghostly choir continues to play, and the dead begin to stand.

"Go away."

The ones who once were people turn and walk away from me, all of them as one motion.

"You aren't real."

The illusion fades away as the fireworks flash once more. Then the silent blackness returns and I can feel the bonds around my wrists again.

At least, surrounded by the dead, I wasn't alone.

"Come back," I say. No movement.

"Please."

I open my eyes.

The blackness in front of me starts to form surface images like the patterns on the walls: I see Kikyou's disapproving mouth, just her mouth, not the rest of her face, then images of food, every kind of food, and I can tell that it isn't poisoned, none of it is. I'm sitting at a table with Alluka next to me, watching the family pass dish after dish down, and I have to keep passing them to Alluka, but it's getting harder and harder not to just start eating right now. When Silva hands me a chocolate robot, I can't help it anymore. I take a handful of little chocolate balls from inside the robot's head.

Just as I put them inside my mouth, the hallucination vanishes, leaving me tugging desperately on the left rope. I'm so hungry that I want to eat the fibers of the ropes, but Illumi wouldn't like it, so I force myself to picture something else, anything else.

I think of being outside, the way the chill forces all thought from my mind and leaves me with nothing, the way I had to learn to think differently just to avoid being crushed by its instinctive significance. I have to think of myself as a part of the mountain, a part of the storm, one with the predator, to avoid becoming its prey. Another vision pulls me in, and I know it isn't real, but I can still see the blackness swirling in front of me around the eye of the storm, can suffer the cold as though I am outside and shiver at a phantom gust of wind.

I feel Illumi's hands at my wrists, untying the restraints, and realize that the wind was caused by the door opening. I brace myself between the floor and the wall, trying to stay upright. It almost works. I slide down the wall and resist the temptation to curl up into a ball, staying perfectly still on the ground.

If I can't be strong, at least I can avoid being weak in this one way.

Warm arms pick me up like I'm still three, not almost eleven, and I give in to my brother's firm hold. He leaves the little room, closing the door behind him, and brings me all the way up to our room.

I don't realize that I'm crying until I'm laid on our bed, sprawled like a dropped doll. Illumi sits next to me, rubbing my back in slow circles. I forgot how much I missed the way he used to do that when I was little.

I never want it to end, the gentle touches so reassuring after the nothingness of the room downstairs, but I'm already drifting in and out of sleep. "I love you, aniki," I say into the bed.

Illumi doesn't reply, except to put one long finger on my arm. I feel soothing warmth spread all over my body.

My tear-stained eyes slip shut.


	4. twelve

*twelve*

* * *

Another year. Running away again. The Hunter Exam. _Gon._

And then back home. Fear. Guilt.

I let him down.

I know I can't forgive myself for what I've done.

Maybe I should kill myself, die by my own bloodstained hands before they take another innocent life, but I can't do that. It's not my desire for life, or even my natural (trained) self-preservation. There's a limit to how much I can hurt myself. I've felt it so many times, alone in the places where I can't even find myself and no one knows where I am. When the risk is too great, I can't go forward. I think of nothingness, and I can't make the final movement. I'll never be free.

I'm twelve, but what does that mean? What would I be like if I was normal? I can't even think about those things anymore. It hurts to imagine.

I don't have to remember. All I have to do is kill.

I know now how to exist without thinking, without remembering, only blood in my past and only darkness in my future. I'm an assassin. It's what I was born to do. My destiny. I can't be happy doing anything else.

I've forgotten what it's like to not be happy. I live in a fog of empty happiness.

Then Gon comes back, and blows the fog away.

Is this really what I wanted? Maybe it would have been better to forget what I've done. Better to go back. They would still take me back. They love me.

Someday, I will return to that place. The only place I'll ever truly belong.

For now, I'm happy to be with Gon.


End file.
